(Hazel X Tristan McLean)

"You're not really going to wear that, are you?" Piper raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe of her guest room. Hazel glanced up from the mirror, her fingers nervously adjusting the hem of the slip dress she'd chosen for dinner. It was a snow white dress, clinging to her curves in all the right places, and just sheer enough to be daring without crossing the line—at least, she hoped.

"Why not?" Hazel replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "It's just a casual dinner with your dad, isn't it?"

Piper smirked, crossing her arms. "Casual dinner? You look like you're about to audition for The Bachelor."

Hazel laughed, though her heart skipped a beat. This wasn't just any dinner, she thought. This was her chance. Tristan McLean was more than just Piper's dad—he was her celebrity crush, the man whose movies had kept her company on lonely nights back at Camp Half-Blood. And now he was here, just down the hall, waiting for dinner to start.

"Dinner's ready!" Tristan's voice rang out from the kitchen, warm and commanding. Hazel met Piper's eyes in the mirror and felt her cheeks flush. She straightened her shoulders, smoothed her hair one last time, and headed for the door.

"You know," Piper said as they walked down the hall, "he's still my dad, Hazel. I don't need to walk in on anything... weird."

"Relax," Hazel shot back, trying to keep her tone light. "I'm just being friendly."

But even as she said it, she knew that wasn't entirely true. Friendly didn't involve the way her heart raced when she heard his laugh, or the way her breath caught when he smiled at her. Friendly didn't explain the careful planning that had gone into this night—the dress, the perfume, the way she'd practiced her smile in the mirror until it looked effortless.

Dinner was a blur, though Hazel tried to commit every detail to memory. The way Tristan's hand brushed hers as he passed her the salt. The low rumble of his voice as he told stories about filming on location. The way his eyes lingered on her just a little too long, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

She waited until after dessert, when Piper excused herself to take a call, before making her move. She stood, smoothing her dress, and turned to Tristan with what she hoped was a confident smile.

Hazel took a deep breath and slid into the chair next to Tristan, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the warmth of his presence, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around her like an intoxicating spell.

"So," she began, her voice slightly shaky, "Piper mentioned you're working on a new project. Anything you can share with your biggest fan?"

Tristan turned to her, his piercing black eyes locking onto hers. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "My biggest fan, huh? I didn't realize I had such a dedicated audience."

Hazel felt her cheeks flush but held his gaze. "Oh, trust me, you do. I've seen all your movies—twice. Some of them... more than that."

"Is that so?" he replied, leaning back in his chair, his tone playful. "And which one's your favorite?"

She hesitated for a moment, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "The one where you played the rogue spy. That scene in the rain? Iconic."

Tristan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, yes. The rain scene. You know, that took twelve takes to get right. I was freezing by the end of it."

"I bet," Hazel said, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the table. "But it was worth it. You looked hot... incredible I meant incredible."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her flustered state. "Incredible, huh? That's quite the compliment coming from someone who looks like you tonight."

Her breath hitched at his words, and she quickly glanced away, pretending to adjust her dress. "Well, I wanted to make a good impression."

"You know," he said, his voice low and smooth, "Piper's always spoken highly of you. But I don't think she ever mentioned how captivating you are."

Her breath caught, and she felt a flush creep up her neck. "I... I don't know what to say," she stammered, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her dress.

Tristan leaned in slightly, his arm still resting on the back of the couch, his presence overwhelming. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words."

Hazel's pulse quickened as his hand brushed against her shoulder, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. She glanced up at him, her lips parting slightly as she tried to find the right words, but they seemed to escape her. All she could focus on was the way he was looking at her—like he wanted to devour her.

"Tristan..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn't respond immediately, instead letting his fingers trail down her arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His eyes never left hers, and Hazel felt like she was drowning in them, unable to look away.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "To be alone with you?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "W-what do you mean?" she managed to ask, though her mind was spinning.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "You're not as subtle as you think, Hazel. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

Her cheeks burned, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

"Don't deny it," he said, his tone firm yet gentle. "I've been waiting for the right moment. And now... here we are."

Before she could react, he closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. Hazel froze for a moment, her mind racing, but then she melted into him, her hands reaching up to grip his shoulders as she kissed him back with all the pent-up longing she'd been harboring for months.

Tristan's kiss deepened, his hand sliding to the back of her neck as he pulled her closer. Hazel's mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shock, desire, and a thrill she couldn't quite name. She had dreamed of this moment for so long, but now that it was happening, it felt surreal, like she was caught in a scene from one of his movies.

His lips moved against hers with a slow, deliberate intensity, coaxing her to respond. And she did, eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with a hunger she hadn't known she possessed. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of warmth and something uniquely Tristan that made her head spin.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless. Tristan's eyes searched hers, dark and unreadable, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze. "Hazel," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "You have no idea what you do to me."

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. Before she could respond, he kissed her again, this time with a fiercer urgency. Hazel moaned softly against his mouth, her body pressing closer to his as her hands roamed over his broad shoulders. Every touch, every movement, sent sparks through her, igniting a fire she didn't know how to control.

Tristan's lips left hers only long enough to murmur, "Let's go somewhere more private," his voice thick with desire. Hazel nodded, her breath shallow, and he took her hand, leading her down the hall toward his bedroom. Her heart raced as they stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind them.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. Tristan turned to her, his eyes dark with hunger, and cupped her face in his hands. "You're so beautiful," he whispered before capturing her lips again, this time with a deeper, more possessive kiss.

Hazel's hands trembled as she reached for him, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He chuckled softly against her mouth, pulling back just enough to help her, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. His chest was bare now, and Hazel couldn't resist running her hands over the firm muscles, her touch tentative but eager.

"Your turn," he murmured, his fingers brushing the thin straps of her white slip dress. Hazel shivered as he slid them down her shoulders, the fabric pooling at her feet. She stood before him in nothing but a pair of white panties, her skin flushed and her breathing uneven.

Tristan's gaze raked over her, his admiration evident. "Perfect," he breathed, his hands skimming her waist, her hips, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. Hazel felt exposed, vulnerable, but also exhilarated by the way he looked at her—like she was the most precious thing in the world.

He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every moment. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her skin. Hazel arched into his touch, her moans muffled against his lips as he teased her, building the tension between them until it was almost unbearable.

Tristan's lips left hers, trailing a slow, deliberate path down her neck. Hazel tilted her head back, a soft moan escaping her as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear. His breath was warm against her skin, sending shivers cascading through her body. His hands gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he continued his descent.

His kisses moved lower, brushing over her collarbone before his tongue flicked lightly against her nipple. Hazel gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he took it into his mouth, teasing it with gentle suction. The sensation was electric, and she arched into him, craving more.

But Tristan wasn't in a hurry. He shifted his attention to her other breast, lavishing it with the same slow, torturous attention. Hazel whimpered, her thighs tightening around him as heat pooled low in her belly. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, but he seemed intent on taking his time, exploring every inch of her.

His lips trailed down her stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Hazel's breath hitched as he reached the curve of her hip, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers with a smoldering intensity that made her heart skip a beat. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lowered his head between her legs.

Tristan's breath was warm against her inner thighs as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her white wet panties. Hazel's pulse quickened, her body trembling with anticipation. With a slow, deliberate movement, he used his teeth to tug them down, sliding them off her legs and tossing them aside. She gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders as he settled between her legs.

His eyes locked onto hers, dark and hungry, before he lowered his head. The first brush of his tongue against her clit sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she let out a soft moan, her fingers tightening in his hair. Tristan didn't hold back, his tongue circling her sensitive bud with expert precision, alternating between gentle flicks and firm pressure.

Hazel's hips bucked involuntarily, but Tristan held her firmly in place, his hands gripping her thighs. His mouth was relentless, teasing and pleasuring her until she was writhing beneath him, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. He added a finger, sliding it inside her while his tongue continued its assault on her clit, and Hazel cried out, her body arching off the bed.

The sensations were overwhelming, building rapidly as Tristan worked her with his mouth and fingers. Hazel could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her, her moans growing louder with each passing second. "Tristan," she whimpered, her voice breaking as she teetered on the edge.

He responded by increasing the intensity, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers curling just right inside her. Hazel's vision blurred as the pleasure peaked, her body convulsing as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. She cried out his name, her hands clawing at the sheets as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her trembling and breathless.

When she finally came down from the high, Tristan kissed his way up her body, his lips brushing against her skin in a tender caress. He reached her face, cupping her cheek as he looked into her eyes. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Hazel could only nod, still catching her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Before Hazel could fully catch her breath, Tristan's lips were on hers again, this time with a hunger that matched her own. Her body was still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm, but the fire inside her hadn't been quenched—it had only grown stronger. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his pants.

With a boldness she didn't know she possessed, Hazel tugged at his belt, fumbling slightly in her eagerness. Tristan chuckled against her mouth, his hands covering hers to help guide them. Together, they undid the buckle and button, pushing his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. His erection sprang free, thick and throbbing, and Hazel couldn't resist wrapping her fingers around it, marveling at the heat and hardness beneath her touch.

She began to stroke him slowly, her movements tentative at first but growing more confident as she felt him respond. Tristan groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking slightly into her hand. "Hazel," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Hazel's breath hitched as she looked up at Tristan, her cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and nervousness. "Tristan," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I... I need to tell you something. This is my first time."

Tristan stilled, his eyes softening as he cupped her face in his hands. "Are you sure about this?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

She nodded, her heart pounding but her resolve firm. "I'm sure. I want this. I want you."

He smiled tenderly, leaning down to kiss her softly. "Then I'll take care of you," he murmured against her lips. He positioned himself between her legs, his body hovering over hers as he guided himself to her entrance. Hazel's breath quickened, her hands gripping his shoulders as she felt the pressure of him pressing against her.

"Relax," Tristan whispered, his voice soothing. "Just breathe." He kissed her again, slow and deep, as he began to push forward. Hazel gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, her body tensing instinctively. Tristan paused, giving her time to adjust, his lips never leaving hers.

When he felt her relax slightly, he pushed further, carefully breaching her hymen. Hazel winced, a small cry escaping her lips, but Tristan held her close, his kisses gentle and reassuring. "Shh, it's okay," he murmured. "You're doing so well."

The initial sting subsided, replaced by a strange fullness that made her shiver. Tristan stayed still, letting her get used to the feeling, his hands caressing her sides. "Tell me when you're ready," he said softly.

After a moment, Hazel nodded, her breathing steadier now. "I'm ready," she whispered.

Tristan began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, allowing her to adjust to the rhythm. As her body responded, he gradually increased the intensity, his pace quickening. Hazel moaned, her nails digging into his back as pleasure began to build within her. Their kisses grew more fervent, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Tristan's thrusts grew deeper, more urgent, each one sending waves of pleasure through Hazel's body. She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist as she matched his rhythm, her moans mingling with his low growls. The room was filled with the sound of their shared passion, the heat between them building to an almost unbearable intensity.

Hazel's hands roamed over Tristan's back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his skin as he moved inside her. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, the pressure in her core coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. "Tristan," she gasped, her voice breaking. "I'm so close..."

He groaned, his pace quickening even further. "Let go, Hazel," he urged, his voice rough with desire. "I've got you."

With a cry, Hazel shattered, her body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her. Tristan followed close behind, his own release crashing over him as he buried himself deep inside her, his name a whispered prayer on her lips.

For a moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, their breathing ragged and hearts pounding. Then, slowly, Tristan pulled away, rolling onto his side and pulling Hazel close.

Hazel nestled into Tristan's chest, her body still humming with the aftershocks of their passion. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as he pressed soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. Their kisses were slow and tender now, a quiet contrast to the fiery intensity they'd shared moments before. Hazel felt safe in his embrace, her eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion crept over her.

"You're incredible," Tristan murmured against her lips, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I've never met anyone like you."

She smiled drowsily, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Neither have I," she whispered back, her words slurring slightly as sleep began to claim her. They kissed again, softer this time, until their breathing slowed and their bodies relaxed into the warmth of each other.

When Hazel woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. She blinked, disoriented for a moment, before the events of the previous night came rushing back. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized Tristan was still beside her, his arm draped protectively over her waist. He looked peaceful in sleep, his features softened, and she couldn't help but smile.

But then the door creaked open, and Piper's voice cut through the silence. "Dad? Breakfast is—" Her words died abruptly as she stepped into the room, her eyes widening in shock. Hazel froze, her stomach dropping as she met Piper's incredulous gaze.

Piper stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth hanging open as she took in the scene before her—her father, naked and asleep, curled around one of her best friends. For a long moment, there was only stunned silence. Then Piper let out a strangled noise that was somewhere between disbelief and outrage.

"WHAT THE HELL?" she finally managed to choke out, her voice rising in pitch. "Are you kidding me right now?"

Tristan stirred at the sound of her voice, groaning softly as he opened his eyes. When he saw Piper standing there, his expression shifted from confusion to mild alarm. "Piper," he began, sitting up slowly, "this isn't what it looks like."